Because of this one child thou hast no more of might, O star-girt Earth, his death yields thee not higher delight!
But, ah! the mother"s heart with woe for ever wild, This heart whose sovran bliss brought forth so bitter birth-- This world as vast as thou, even _thou_, O sorrowless Earth, Is desolate and void because of this one child!
NELSON K. TYERMAN.
ST. JOHN.
_("Un jour, le morne esprit.")_
[Bk. VI. vii., Jersey, September, 1855.]
One day, the sombre soul, the Prophet most sublime At Patmos who aye dreamed, And tremblingly perused, without the vast of Time, Words that with h.e.l.l-fire gleamed,
Said to his eagle: "Bird, spread wings for loftiest flight-- Needs must I see His Face!"
The eagle soared. At length, far beyond day and night, Lo! the all-sacred Place!
And John beheld the Way whereof no angel knows The name, nor there hath trod; And, lo! the Place fulfilled with shadow that aye glows Because of very G.o.d.
NELSON R. TYERMAN.
THE POET"S SIMPLE FAITH.
You say, "Where goest thou?" I cannot tell, And still go on. If but the way be straight, It cannot go amiss! before me lies Dawn and the Day; the Night behind me; that Suffices me; I break the bounds; I _see_, And nothing more; _believe_, and nothing less.
My future is not one of my concerns.
PROF. E. DOWDEN.
I AM CONTENT.
_("J"habite l"ombre.")_
[1855.]
True; I dwell lone, Upon sea-beaten cape, Mere raft of stone; Whence all escape Save one who shrinks not from the gloom, And will not take the coward"s leap i" the tomb.
My bedroom rocks With breezes; quakes in storms, When dangling locks Of seaweed mock the forms Of straggling clouds that trail o"erhead Like tresses from disrupted coffin-lead.
Upon the sky c.r.a.pe palls are often nailed With stars. Mine eye Has scared the gull that sailed To blacker depths with shrillest scream, Still fainter, till like voices in a dream.
My days become More plaintive, wan, and pale, While o"er the foam I see, borne by the gale, Infinity! in kindness sent-- To find me ever saying: "I"m content!"
LA LeGENDE DES SIeCLES.
CAIN.
_("Lorsque avec ses enfants Cain se fut enfui.")_
[Bk. II]
Then, with his children, clothed in skins of brutes, Dishevelled, livid, rushing through the storm, Cain fled before Jehovah. As night fell The dark man reached a mount in a great plain, And his tired wife and his sons, out of breath, Said: "Let us lie down on the earth and sleep."
Cain, sleeping not, dreamed at the mountain foot.
Raising his head, in that funereal heaven He saw an eye, a great eye, in the night Open, and staring at him in the gloom.
"I am too near," he said, and tremblingly woke up His sleeping sons again, and his tired wife, And fled through s.p.a.ce and darkness. Thirty days He went, and thirty nights, nor looked behind; Pale, silent, watchful, shaking at each sound; No rest, no sleep, till he attained the strand Where the sea washes that which since was a.s.shur.
"Here pause," he said, "for this place is secure; Here may we rest, for this is the world"s end."
And he sat down; when, lo! in the sad sky, The selfsame Eye on the horizon"s verge, And the wretch shook as in an ague fit.
"Hide me!" he cried; and all his watchful sons, Their finger on their lip, stared at their sire.
Cain said to Jabal (father of them that dwell In tents): "Spread here the curtain of thy tent,"
And they spread wide the floating canvas roof, And made it fast and fixed it down with lead.
"You see naught now," said Zillah then, fair child The daughter of his eldest, sweet as day.
But Cain replied, "That Eye--I see it still."
And Jubal cried (the father of all those That handle harp and organ): "I will build A sanctuary;" and he made a wall of bronze, And set his sire behind it. But Cain moaned, "That Eye is glaring at me ever." Henoch cried: "Then must we make a circle vast of towers, So terrible that nothing dare draw near; Build we a city with a citadel; Build we a city high and close it fast."
Then Tubal Cain (instructor of all them That work in bra.s.s and iron) built a tower-- Enormous, superhuman. While he wrought, His fiery brothers from the plain around Hunted the sons of Enoch and of Seth; They plucked the eyes out of whoever pa.s.sed, And hurled at even arrows to the stars.
They set strong granite for the canvas wall, And every block was clamped with iron chains.
It seemed a city made for h.e.l.l. Its towers, With their huge ma.s.ses made night in the land.
The walls were thick as mountains. On the door They graved: "Let not G.o.d enter here." This done, And having finished to cement and build In a stone tower, they set him in the midst.
To him, still dark and haggard, "Oh, my sire, Is the Eye gone?" quoth Zillah tremblingly.
But Cain replied: "Nay, it is even there."
Then added: "I will live beneath the earth, As a lone man within his sepulchre.
I will see nothing; will be seen of none."
They digged a trench, and Cain said: ""Tis enow,"
As he went down alone into the vault; But when he sat, so ghost-like, in his chair, And they had closed the dungeon o"er his head, The Eye was in the tomb and fixed on Cain.
_Dublin University Magazine_